


the three she loved

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friendship, Gen, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4326762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right here, right now, Kiyoko knows, beyond any doubt, that she loves them all. It’s not a matter of finding ‘the right person’ because they’re here, mixed up, imperfect, but perfect for her. </p>
<p>Because each of these guys made her a part of something incredible. </p>
<p>And she wants to tell them this, but words have never been her forte.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the three she loved

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for written for the Haikyuu Summer Holidays Fic Exchange. I really enjoyed writing it and loved exploring the dynamic between the four third years.

It wasn’t a lightning bolt. There was no sudden rush of feelings. She didn’t feel the way Aimi did when she’d likened her first love to being hit by a truck. For a long while, in fact, Kiyoko had thought herself incapable of love. It fussed at her a little, but not so much she’d agonise at night, or write letters to girls’ magazines wondering if she were normal.

Kiyoko assumed she hadn’t met the right person, and when she thought more deeply, she wasn’t bothered if this ever happened. Love with all its complications and excuses didn’t interest her much. She was too busy with school and volleyball.

It was when they made it to Nationals that she realised. And her epiphany made her smile because yes, it complicated things, but it was so clear now.

Kiyoko Shimizu wasn’t in love with _one_ person.

She loved three.

***

 

His name is Sawamura Daichi. She knows this despite not being in the same class because everyone in her year is aware of him. He plays volleyball, a sport she’s not had much time for because Karasuno’s team aren’t strong and she knows nothing about the game. But she’s aware of Sawamura because he’s a ‘presence’. He has this intensity about him, one that makes girls and boys falter when he walks by. They’ll step out of his way, or they’ll stop for a split second and attempt a smile. He _sometimes_ smiles back. At first, she thinks he’s rude, but later, when she’s better acquainted, it occurs to her that Sawamura simply doesn’t know he gives off this vibe and doesn’t notice the attention.

It’s not just his brooding presence and broad shoulders, though. Sawamura has a rivalry with one of the basketball players from his class, one that in the corridors of Karasuno is already the stuff of legend. It’s needles and pins, sharp quick barbs, rather than fists, but there’s always a chance it will spill over into something fiercer than shoulder barges, or grabbing the last wrap in the lunch queue.

When Sawamura approaches her during a lunch break in the middle of her second term, she knows exactly what he’s after. He’s here to chat her up because he watched his basketball nemesis get rebuffed the week before and wants to claim another victory.

She’s wrong.

“Shimizu-san,” he begins respectfully.

(Well, that’s better than Itori, who leant over her, using his undoubtedly superior height and arm span to block her way out of the classroom.)

“Do I know you?” she replies, hoping she sounds icy.

“Ah, sorry. I’m Sawamura Daichi. Class four. I ... uh ... wanted to ask you something.”

(His self-deprecating pose is good and she marvels that he even looks as if he’s blushing, but that’s ridiculous. Can you make yourself blush?  Is that possible?)

As she smoothes a tress of hair behind her ear, she sees another boy observing them. Sugawara Koushi – she knows _of_ him because he’s always walking the corridors with Sawamura. But where Sawamura is a dark hulk of a boy, Sugawara is all silver light and smiles. He’s not smiling now, and that heartens her because maybe Sawamura isn’t here to play up to a rivalry.

“Ask away,” she replies. “But I would like to get to lunch, so could you make it quick?”

“Yes, yes, c-certainly,” he says, spluttering a little. “Uh ... I’m a volleyball player. And ... um ...” He glances over his shoulder at his companion, whose eyes widen as he mouths, ‘Go on!’.  Sawamura clears his throat. “We’re looking for a manager.”

_That’s a new line._ “And you want my opinion why?”

“Oh ... uh ... no ... it’s not your opinion we want. I ... um .... well, Suga said it, actually, and he’s ...uh ...”

“Suga?” she asks, affecting again not to know whom he’s talking about.

“Yeah, he’s...” He looks back again, and she follows his gaze just in time to see Suga whipping round the corner.

“Git,” Sawamura mutters. Then he faces her. “Suga had this idea that we should get a manager. We ... um ... noticed that you hadn’t joined a club, and ... uh ...” He must see the frost in her face because he blinks and takes a step back. “Sorry, this is obviously a bad idea.”

“You want me to be the manager?”  He nods. “Of a volleyball team.”  He nods again, this time more vigorously. “Why? I mean, why me?”

“Uh ... well, it’s like this. Suga thinks you look efficient.”

“Because of the glasses,” she snaps, bristling.

“Um, no, I think it’s the way you walk, or something. Suga reckons you can tell a lot about the way someone steps on the ground. Like he knows I’m serious when my steps are heavy, and he’s not frightened of Asahi because his toes splay inwards...” He trails off and looks away, suddenly finding his hands very interesting.

“What?” She wants to arch an eyebrow, to stare at him coolly and undermine him, but the story is so ridiculous and Sawamura looks so flustered saying it, that instead she lets out the minutest giggle, and presses her lips together to stop the grin. “Is Sugawara all right in the head?”

“Um, yeah, he’s a bit off the wall at times,” Sawamura mutters, grinning sheepishly.

_Nice smile_.

She takes pity on him. “Okay, so he thinks I’m efficient because I can walk, but why do you think I could manage you? I know nothing about volleyball.”

He stops grinning and stares at her, his mouth slightly agape. And in that instant, she becomes aware of a very different aura about him. He’s serious, deadly so, yet also in awe. “Because,” he says plainly, “you’re Shimizu Kiyoko.  I watched you play tennis at Junior High and then for Miyagi. You’re _good_ , and I don’t know why you don’t play anymore, but I know you’re a fighter.” He swallows, it’s a short time skip until he continues, and when he does his voice is fainter but no less true. “Please manage us, Shimizu-san. We need you.”

***

Sugawara Koushi is the boy she meets next of the three. It’s inevitable, really, as he’s always around Sawamura, and when she decides to accept the position of manager, it’s Sawamura and Sugawara who introduce her to the team.

The other players, the older guys, look her up and down (she notices one of them lingering a little too long on her chest area, so she glares at him, and he looks away) and then the Captain sighs wanly at her, before bowing and giving his thanks.

At first there’s not much to do, and she doesn’t understand why Sawamura was so desperate for a manager because Karasuno don’t have practise matches lined up, and although her eyes narrow when she hears this, there’s not much that she, as a first year, can do about it. Instead, she thinks about publicity, encouraging people to watch, or even join the club, but this is hard for her because she’s naturally shy and words don’t trip off her tongue the way they do for others.

Others like Sugawara Koushi.

Her first impression of him as a boy of smiles and light remains, but there’s another side to him (or several really) and the brightness in his eyes isn’t only because he’s genuine but because he has a naughty streak bubbling under the surface. He’s full of devilish tricks and snarky asides about their opponents, a whirlwind of enthusiasm about his sport, with a laugh that buoys them all.

Sugawara’s the boy that comes with her on a recruitment drive. While she hands out leaflets, one rainy day in October, imploring students to come along and cheer, he’s exhorting them, chatting to girls and boys alike, with the flirtiest of smiles, and a wink that his audience assume is only for them.                   

“Why do you wink on that side?” she asks idly, after she’s watched him for an hour.

“Hmm?”

“It looks a little awkward. Isn’t your right eye stronger?”

He winks at her, first with his right and then with his left, and she knows she hadn’t imagined it, because as he closes the left lid, the right one twitches, too.

“See, you’re right eyed!” she says.

He winks again, and then grins at her, his beam of a smile both warming and teasing. “I’m left moled, though,” he declares, just as a gaggle of girls approach them. “And my Grandma says it’s a good thing to notice on a person.”

Unsure if he’s mocking her, Kiyoko steps away. Her hand drifts automatically to her chin, her fingers coming into contact with her own mole – or beauty mark as her mum insists on calling it. Maybe she should smile more, maybe she could be like this boy currently enchanting the girls from class one, but as their attention drifts to her and she smiles, they lose interest and walk away.

“Sorry, I must have put them off,” she mutters, deciding not to smile again.

He shrugs. “Nah, I don’t think they were interested. It’s kind of hard to recruit fans when the netball team are doing well, and the basketball squad are out in force.”

Pulling a face, she reflects on the basketball team. Itori, stung that she’d become the volleyball manager, had pressed harder for a date and only a whack with her schoolbag had stopped him approaching her for a fourth time. There are some girls that think she’s mad for turning him down, but Kiyoko knows he’s asking merely to points score, and she doesn’t find him attractive or interesting enough to take the risk that he actually likes her.

“Shall we leave it for the day?” Sugawara asks a short while later. “We could grab a coffee, or something?”

“Uh...” She gnaws at her lip, suddenly not so sure she knows what she’s doing because ... what if this is Sugawara’s way of asking for a date? _Coffee?  Together? And what’s the something he’s talking about?_

“I’ll pay if you’re short of money,” he continues. “Or we could round up the others.”

“The others?”

 “Daichi and Asahi were going to leaflet the local shops, so we could stop by the Foothill Store.” He starts to laugh.  “I discovered yesterday that if I tease Asahi enough he gets so flustered that he’ll buy me hot chocolate just so I’ll shut up.”

There’ll be the four of them. That’s good then, and not a date at all. And although she’s relieved, there’s a small part of her aching with failed anticipation because Sugawara has this way about him that makes you feel important. And she likes that. “Um ... okay, Sugawara-san, let’s get coffee.”

Screwing up his nose, he drops the last of the fliers into a cardboard box and closes the lid. “Would you mind dropping the ‘wara’, Shimizu-san? I feel like I’m about to be reprimanded by a teacher, or thrown onto a mat by someone on the wrestling team.”

“Then what... um ...”

“Suga,” he suggests. “Or Suga-san, if you really want, but not Sugawara and please not Koushi.”

As she agrees, he pulls out his phone, tapping something out, and she can guess who he’s texting because more often than not, he’s with Sawamura. And sure enough, when they get to the Foothill Store, he’s already there along with Azumane, who’s at the counter with his wallet out.

He stutters when he sees her, asking what she’d like, and because it seems churlish to refuse, she asks for a lemon tea then joins Suga at the table.  Sawamura pulls out a notebook and she recognises a volleyball play drawn on the page that he starts to discuss with Suga. She listens with half an ear because it is quite interesting even if she doesn’t play herself, but her attention is more on the giant of a boy buying them all drinks.

When she’d first met Azumane, she’d assumed he was a third year. Her throat had closed looking at him because being so tall, she’d had to crick her neck to greet him. He’d had the beginnings of stubble, which she hadn’t expected from a fifteen year old, and his hair had been longer than Sawamura’s - longer than Suga’s, too. Feeling intimidated in his presence, she’d looked away from his face and down to his feet.

His toes were turned inward. He was a first year. He was _the_ first year that Sawamura had mentioned, the one Sugawara wasn’t scared of. So she’d smothered a snort, blinked and faced him again, this time peering more closely. And Azumane had blushed.

_Oh ... how sweet._

Azumane Asahi is the boy most like her. He’s quieter than the others, despite his ferocity on court, and for someone who looks the way he does, in school uniform, he’s relatively invisible. In Class Three, she should have seen him before now, because their rooms are next to each other, and occasionally they’d had joint activities, but he made it a habit to sit at the back, and hunch down in his chair, not catching anyone’s eye.

But where as her shyness is innate and something she uses as a means of distancing herself, Azumane’s – she soon realises – cripples him. He’s insecure about so much, from school work to social interactions, from his build, to his looks. Everything, with Azumane, is a muddled mass of inferiority complex that he hides with a self-deprecating smile and gentle laughs when he’s teased.

It’s only on court that he becomes powerful and feels valued. And she glories in watching him spike the ball fiercely, the sound reverberating through the gym. He’s a regular before Sawamura and long before Suga, yet he still feels inadequate.

It’s when Azumane unravels that it threatens to fracture them all.

***

At the end of their second year, she thinks she has the measure of her three boys now. She has the measure of the first years, too, knowing which ones she can chat to (Ennoshita, Narita and Kinoshita) and which she must ignore (Tanaka and Nishinoya) because they will take a single greeting too far and become stupid in her presence.

Sawamura will yell at them, Azumane will remonstrate in his quiet way, but it’s Suga who deals with it. His sharp barbs cutting both of them to the quick. Just as she expected.

But it’s at the end of their second year, that Kiyoko realises she barely knows her trio at all.

That Azumane loses it. That he freezes on court and becomes a shell of the player he should be, isn’t _that_ much of a shock. She doesn’t feel the surprise that Suga and Nishinoya do because she knows Azumane, and she realises this has been building for a while. The expectations of the team are something he’s taken – Atlas-like – on his shoulders, believing if he shrugs then the world will fall.

That Sawamura believes the Ace will be back doesn’t surprise her either. There’s no telling him he’s wrong because the Captain thinks everyone’s determination to succeed is equal to his own. He’s shrewd about his team, but surprisingly dumb when it comes to the feelings of others, and tells Kiyoko, when she suggests he should talk to Asahi, that there’s no need because ‘the goofball will return, and buy us all pork buns’.

 

That Suga cracks is the event that shakes her to the core. Her boy of light and smiles disintegrates in front of her, and she’s out of her depth dealing with him.

 

It’s Spring Break, Sawamura is away. He’s instructed his vice-captain to keep things ticking over, but not to contact Azumane.

“He’ll be back,” is the only thing Sawamura says on the subject and he won’t brook anymore discussion over whether they should approach him.

But Suga’s not so sure. He wants Azumane back because Suga feels his loss more keenly than the others do. It wasn’t his first start as Setter, but he’s only just made the team as a regular, and that was only down to the third years leaving before Spring High. Despite Sawamura’s assurance that he’s better than the previous Setter, Suga remains unsure, hamstrung by his lack of experience and disbelief in his abilities. He can play with Azumane because they’ve practised so much together. And with Sawamura alongside him, Suga rapidly loses his trepidation and becomes capable of tosses that an Ace will dream of. He’s clever, he reads the game well, and is good at explaining, too (something Kiyoko’s been grateful for over the years).

But when Azumane breaks, Suga assumes it’s his fault, and nothing, not even Sawamura’s blunt assertion that all will be well if they train harder, gets through to him.

He tells Kiyoko, one afternoon when he’s sitting on the gym steps his head in his hands, that he’s not sure he can step on the court again.

“You’re quitting?” she asks, shaken out of her usual reserve because how can this boy, who she’s seen on the sidelines for two long years desperate for his chance, possibly leave them (and her) now?

He shakes his head. “I won’t do that to Daichi,” he mutters. “But I can’t seem to put one foot in front of the other. Everything seems wrong. My shoes are tight, my laces in knots, my shorts and shirt too big. I stare in the mirror and all I see is a... fraud.”

Embarrassed, she wonders what to do. She’s never been a ‘people person’, lacking not sympathy but rather the empathy to truly connect. There’s no gut instinct telling her what she should say, or how she can reach him, but she knows she has to try. This Suga is alien to her - scarily so -and the tears now splashing down his cheeks, the snot he’s trying to mop up before she sees, render him painfully ugly. It’s as if a painting or a statue’s been defaced. The cracks in his bright facade letting only dark and desperation through.

And she realises _she_ has to repair him. It can’t just be words – that would be like tissue paper on a bullet wound – he needs an action. He needs a plan. He needs something else to focus on.

She touches his shoulder and her fingers drift to his hair. Soft, fluffy hair, which she hadn’t realised until now that she’d wanted to touch for some time. Suga doesn’t flinch, or shy away, but leans towards her. It’s not predatory - he’s not angling for a kiss – she’s not even sure he realises what he’s doing, but as she ruffles his hair, the sobs wracking his body lessen.

“Daichi doesn’t want me to contact Asahi,” he murmurs and sniffs a little.

“But you do?”

“I feel I have to do something,” he replies. “Or else I’ve failed. Again.”

“Then call him,” she says, because although she doesn’t think it will bring back the Ace, it’s right that Suga tries. “You didn’t fail, Suga-san.”

“We didn’t win the match,” he states.

She breathes in, heartened by the matter of fact way he’s speaking. He’s mending now, calming himself because he has a plan, which even if it doesn’t work, will help him heal.

A light flickers inside her. “We have another year,” she says. “And new members will come, which reminds me... Suga-san, we need a new poster for the recruitment drive. Will you help?”

“Why me?”

“Because I can’t draw,” she says, and smiles a little.

And Suga smiles back, faint it’s true and not a patch on his usual wide headlight beam, but she can see in his eyes that he’s happier. “I can’t draw either, but I’ll have a go.”

***

They’ve qualified for Nationals. Although Kiyoko should be surprised, she’s not. When it happens, when Sawamura receives Ushijima’s serve, guiding it to Suga who sets his most perfect toss to Azumane and not Kageyama, who Shiratorizawa were watching, she feels the inevitability of it all. It’s Fate and she knows there was never any doubt in her mind that this was their conclusion.

It’s not the endgame. There are matches to be played in Tokyo, but they have two months, and can take one evening out, just the four of them to recoup, recover and rediscover their friendship.

There are four months left before they go their separate ways. Sawamura and Suga are heading to Tokyo – the same university – and will share a flat. Azumane has a job with his uncle lined up, and has already told Ukai that he wants to play for the Neighbourhood team, and will help coach Karasuno if he’s needed.

(The fact that Ukai practically bit his hand off at the gesture has still not convinced Azumane that he’s wanted, but some things are too ingrained in his psyche.)

Despite the cold, they sit on the stops of The Foothill Store, munching pork buns and sipping their drinks. Suga has paid, for once, and claps his hand on Azumane’s shoulder telling him to put his wallet away.

“What’s have you done with the real Sugawara Koushi?” Sawamura demands, then dodges the punch aimed his way.

Right here, right now, Kiyoko knows, beyond any doubt, that she loves them all. It’s not a matter of finding ‘the right person’ because they’re here, mixed up, imperfect, but perfect for her. Because each of these guys made her a part of something incredible. And she wants to tell them this, but words have never been her forte.

Turning to the side, she brushes her lips on Sawamura’s cheek. “Thank you for finding me,” she whispers.

All at once, he looks like the stammering first year that she’d tried to discomfort, but he’d held his ground. He touches his cheek with his hand, and tries to say something, but the reply seems to stick in his throat.

She twists away, this time finding Suga and pouts her mouth onto his temple. “Thank you for making me feel needed,” she whispers.

He squeezes her shoulder. “Thank _you_ for listening,” he replies, then gives her a ghost of a wink with his right eye. “Sorry about the poster.”

She giggles. “It’s memorable, Suga-san, that’s all it had to be.”

And they all laugh, remembering his awful attempt at a picture of Daichi that kept Itori (now the basketball captain) in fits for weeks.

Kiyoko has to shuffle along the steps to Azumane. He’s staring at his hands, and it’s almost as if he’s dreading her approach for he’s already blushing and she can see his toes turning inward. Tilting up to him, she’s heartened when he flicks his eyes to her face. There’s a nervy kind of twitch to his lips, and she, herself, can feel her pulse thump.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice even quieter now because even though Sawamura and Suga are there, she needs a degree of privacy for this.

“For what?”

“Coming back,” she replies. “Facing your demons.”

He’s ready to accept her kiss, embarrassed but happy, and turns his cheek to her. But Kiyoko shifts a little, and instead of the peck he expects, she presses her lips on his, lingering a little.

Sawamura’s _strength_ , Suga’s _light_ and Azumane’s _gentleness_. At this moment, under the stars with Nationals approaching and their future spread before them, she loves all three and marvels at how well they fit.


End file.
